Dying To Heal
by Minerva77
Summary: With a haunting past and a heart filled with fear, Bella had reached the end of her rope, "It was a moment of desperation. A moment of seeking after a drastic change, even if that meant dying for the sake of healing." It was while staring in the face of death, Bella discovers, not all angels have wings. When earth collides with heaven, truth emerges, and freedom is sure to follow.
1. Prologue in BPOV - Chapter 1

**.**

**Dying To Heal. . . **

**_~ Prologue - Chapter 1 ~_**

_It was a moment of desperation. A moment of seeking a drastic change, _  
_even if that meant dying for the sake of healing. . ._

_._

_._

_._

The howling winds were angry, cruel, lacking all mercy. It felt like a thousand tiny knives stabbing into my exposed flesh.

"You can do this." I willed myself closer to the edge, looking down at the shapeless forms of water below.

Much like the wind, the waters too, seemed angry as they harshly beat against the concrete peers. Liquid hands reaching out to me, calling for me to join in the blackness, in the numbness of a never, far away from here.

Lightening flashed across the roaring sky and for a split second the entire forest lit up, revealing the multicolored hillside that had taken over most of the green.

Panting for every breath, I looked back to the shapeless forms below, so cold, so dark... but yet so inviting.

_How did I ever get here?_ I thought as a single tear temporally warmed my icy cheek.

Was I some sort of crazy? Maybe I was - maybe I am - but at that moment, I just needed it to be over. At the end of my rope, all I found was a lifetime of bad choices and a heart filled with sheer emptiness, besides the fear that had taken up permanent residence.

At twenty-two years old, my life was over, my fate was decided and my mind was made up.

_No turning back._

"I need you now, more than ever," I choked out into the shivering, unfriendly night air, staring directly into the heavens.

Like so many times before, it was only me and my screams of no reply.

"Answer me!" I yelled to the top of my voice just as huge raindrops began to fall, making the cold winds all that more unbearable.

"I don't care anymore," I seethed, struggling to keep my eyes open. "You know that, you know my heart, right?"

Again no answer, only the wind and the rain thrashing into me as if God himself was whispering, "_Do it_."

Closing my eyes, I released one of my hands from the frosty railings and that's when I saw his warm, brown eyes shinning through all the pain from somewhere in the back of my mind. His smile was so perfect that I couldn't help but to smile myself, to spite the fact of what I came to that old, abandoned bridge to do.

"He was all that I had." I used my free hand to wipe away the endless tears now streaming down my face.

Using the other hand, I held to the railing so tightly, I just knew my knuckles were gonna burst.

My lips trembled at both the coldness and the nerve I was willing from within. The original plan was to come straight to the bridge and without a second thought, just do it. However, once I was standing there, in the moment, a million thoughts flooded my head.

_Would there be pain?_

_What if I survive?_

_Where does one really go in the afterlife and would there be a price to pay for taking one's own life?_

_Was I only trading one hell for another?_

I could handle the physical pain, or so I told myself, it was the emotional pain that had destroyed me and brought me to the point of desperation.

"It's now or never," I finally said one last time and adjusted myself as I completely let go of the railing, solely depending on balance.

All of my doubts slowly, but surely fading away, I was so close to freedom, I could taste it. I tightly shut my eyes, panting for breath as the strong winds blew my heavy hair in every direction. One step closer, ready to let go of all the pain and cross over into the unknown; good or bad, anything had to be better than this life.

It didn't matter where I lay, it didn't matter where they buried me, nothing mattered, for all of my tears would soon be washed away and for once in my life, I'd be free. . . and without so much as a blink of an eye, my frozen body was airborne as I smiled in the face of death.

"Take my hand." A raspy voice caused my panicked eyes to shoot open when I felt fire against my ice-cold skin.

The rain continued to fall, forcing my eyes to shut again and again, no matter how hard I willed them to stay open. The fiery-touch was consuming me further as it went from my arm to my shoulder then to my back and finally pulling me back onto the bridge, back to life, back to hell.

"Let go!" I yelled, struggling to break free, but the saving hands were too strong and before I knew it, I was completely over the railing; utterly saved.

"Why?" I cried as I buried my face into the brick wall that was this man's chest.

Instead of answering, the man pulled me into his arms and cradled me like a child. I could feel the rhythm of his trembling heart, beating like a drum, underneath his thick sweater. He was so warm and smelled so heavenly.

_Is he an angel?_ I quietly mused, for everything happened so sudden, I only knew that the form of this creature was male.

I laid in his lap, forcing my eyes open and without too much movement, I tried to steal a glimpse.

As I studied his strong jaw line covered in slight stubble, I was met with the most angelic, ice-blue eyes that I had ever seen.

His eyes didn't look real, either they were too blue, or too clear, I couldn't decide which, but I didn't see a halo nor did I remember wings upon his form.

Like a forgotten memory, frozen in time, I could only stare. The man's face was beautiful, simply flawless. His hair was soaked, making it appear darker, but lighter colors of reddish-blonde and bronze locks peeked from the wet, disheveled mess.

Now more than his eyes, he too, seemed unreal.

_Was this the afterlife? Or maybe I'm stuck in between worlds or perhaps I've entered into another world altogether?_

Closing my eyes with a long sigh, I postponed my inner debate. Angel or not, this man was still a stranger and being the rebellious person that I often am, I tried to break free from his stronghold. But I was fighting a losing battle, for it only caused him to tighten his arms around me.

After a minute or so of struggling to free myself, my strength ceased and the warmth of his body - so delightful, so alluring - caused my own body to automatically lighten and relax against him.

As I laid trembling from both the cold and sessions of weeping, I curled myself closer to him. Wrapping my fist tightly around the opening of his fleece-wool-coat, sharply inhaling the smell of cleanliness, I buried my face, once again, into his chest.

The angel without a halo, who bore no wings, didn't talk, he only held me in his arms.

If eternity was to be spent in this manner, it would have been fine by me, for I had never felt so warm and so protected in all of my life. However, my flesh was exhausted and my strength was fading fast, as I felt my own body slipping in and out of conscience.

When the angel's eyes found mine one last time, I found something in his gaze I had never found in another person - mercy and compassion. And it wasn't only in his eyes, it was written all over his entire face.

"You'll be okay," he finally said in a honest voice while pushing a lock of cold, damp hair from my face.

Taking his sincere words in stride, for the first time, in a very long time, I felt something inside of me shift. A drastic change filled me to the very core of my being, engulfing my heart, body and soul. And written there in his knowing eyes was a truth, a truth so vivid, I grabbed it as if it was a lifeline and held on with all of my might.

The winds calmed, as did the rain, but the thunder loudly interrupted as lightening flashed in various places across the now black sky and I closed my eyes. . .

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**A/N**

I know that was kind of intense, but I do hope you guys enjoyed it and continue in following Bella as she faces demons from the past, reaches deep inside in hopes of a healing, and then tries to find her place in this world.

I want to inform all readers that the genre in this story, as you already know, starts angsty, but the angst won't last forever, and I plan to keep it as short and sweet as possible. This story will ultimately be more of a romance, a tad fluffy from time to time and will end with a HEA! It will be a B & E pairing/romance, and I will add the other characters into this storyline as it unfolds. This will also be AH... I'll leave the vamp-writing to the pros :)

Parts of this story is already pre-written, as I have three notebooks going with footnotes, sidebars, ideas, different routes in the storyline and such, but for the most part, the major storyline is already written. I just have to decide what goes and what stays, all while editing.

This story will be told in BPOV, but I do have, and hopefully will be writing even more, EPOVs. However, I have no idea as to when I will add those, maybe toward the end, or after the story itself ends, I can, maybe, add those as bonus chapters. We'll see.

**Updates:** I have no planned schedule for updates. I'll do my very best to get those to you as quickly as possible.

**Rating:** I rated this story M, details in certain situations may be written in, I don't know. If I feel it needs to be added in, of course. If not, I won't. Therefore I cannot give a definite yes or no. When I write, I like to follow the characters, focused solely on the storyline, not guidelines.

**Beta**: None, so please be nice. I already know my grammar isn't top-notch.

**Proofreaders:** Two of the finest people that I know, which happen to be very dear to me, C-Mo and Josh. Yes Josh, he's male... but it's okay, he likes boys too (especially certain vamps that go by the name of Edward Cullen.) I don't know what shocked me the most, my friend's coming out or him saying he liked Edward. Most of my other male gay friends go on and on (_and on_) about the other guy - what's his name again? Oh and his hot body *MEH* But moving on, I would like to send a huge Thank You to those two, for not only seeing me through this and the many changes I have made in trying to get it as polished as possible, considering no beta, but also for taking the time to help me focus on certain areas and fix small grammatical mistakes.

Now with all of that being said, I wanna say hello to everyone, hoping that a few of my former readers are among the crowd... I have missed writing, I have missed endless hours of reading and I have greatly missed my readers, for they made my time here unforgettable and I will forever be grateful for being made to feel so welcomed. God, it feels good to be back! I can only hope to find my place back into the world of Fanfiction, and with a little luck, back into the hearts of my readers.*Fingers Crossed* I will try.

Until Next Time,

xo

Minerva


	2. Prologue in EPOV - Chapter 2

**Quick A/N before reading this chapter... **

About POVs, I graduated from Long Ridge Writers Group back in 2011, and my instructor, Kris, and I covered POVs. Kris is a published author, but I will not lie, I didn't buy his books, because he is far from my genre of writing/reading. However, I did note every piece of helpful advise that he gave to me. According to Kris, a writer is to never jump POVs, unless they chose to do it during the prologue, epilogue and/or epigraph or an epigram or incipt. Kris made his marks on the assignment I handed in, which I gave in two POVs and he more-less said "No No." So as I have been developing as a writing over the past few years, I have thrown out other POVs, only placing them within my storylines at the very end, either with the epilogue or simply as bonus chapters. However, when I write, as most writers do, I write the story as it unfolds in my head. And I will say that I did not see this one coming. I already had an EPOV written, but this part, this chapter stood out. And I feel this chapter needs posted before the storyline continues any further. As to what I will call it, I have mused and pondered it for a few days now, when I finally decided, "You know what, this is fanfiction, this is for fun and learning and as to why I choose to put so much pressure on myself as a writer, I'll never know. It only hinders me to be quite honest."

With that being said, I am going to simply call this chapter "Chapter 2 - Prologue in EPOV"... As to why I decided to discuss this with my readers, I wanted to let you guys know now, that this story is going to be told in BPOV. This is her story, her healing, her words, so as to when I'll post another EPOV, I can not say, it could be a few more chapters or at the end. But it will definitely come in when I feel it needs to.

* * *

_**Dying To Heal**_

_********__Prologue in EPOV - Chapter 2_

_I can't let her go. . ._

_**EPOV**_

"Dammit!" I growled at the heavy rain that was forcing me away from my safe haven.

I took a long, hard breath while glancing back once more at the old abandoned house were I grew up and the huge black onyx stone that rested under the aged apple tree at the corner of the lawn.

Dying vines that were losing their color had grown over the faded, chipped paint and most of the windows. Time had surely left it's mark on the Victorian house.

What was once my home, warm and full of life, was now just an old empty shell, lifeless and cold. The warm spirit was gone, leaving me with only memories that I'll cherish always.

It had been seven years since my mother's passing. At times her death felt like a lifetime ago, while at other times, it felt as if it had only happened yesterday.

I missed her. My mother was warm, gentle and always understanding. I knew I could tell her anything, and without judgment, she would have understood.

As I quickly made my way through the dwindling bushes and trees, faded-green and yellowish colored leaves crushed under my feet with each step. The temperature felt as if it was dropping with each step I made.

The cold rain had no mercy as it continued to fall, making it hard to see, and the evening's light was quickly fading.

My heart ached, longing to spend time at my mother's grave. I needed some time alone, some time to think, and although some may think it's a tad morbid, I done my best musing while at her graveside.

"What the. . ." I trailed off as I approached the old bridge leading to Wilmington road.

To spite the downpour and darkening skies, I saw someone standing on the edge of the bridge.

Slowing my pace, I rubbed the wetness from my eyes, curious to see the scene unfolding before me.

I was now creeping toward the person and the closer I got, I could clearly see long, dark-colored hair. The person was definitely a female, the curves of her tiny physique gave that much away.

She wore a white top, possibly silk-like material, and it was because of the rain, the blouse was clinging to her flesh, revealing the curves of her breasts.

_What in the world is this crazy girl doing? _I completely stopped before stepping onto the old bridge and with one swift movement, she removed one hand from the railing.

"Jesus." I murmured in a low voice.

With her free hand, she wiped her face and cried out with so much despair in her voice, although her words weren't clear, the despair alone spoke volumes.

"Hey, are you okay?" I yelled just as thunder erupted, drowning out my voice.

As the girl turned to the side, it allowed me a better look at her face, she was crying.

She was beautiful, possibly the most exquisite creature I had ever seen.

My heart was waxed heavy in knowing that she was in some sort of pain. I wanted to help. As to how, I had no idea, but I wanted to try.

The next few seconds happened so quickly, it's hard for me to clearly recall my every thought, my every move.

She said something, to herself? To no one at all? I had no idea, however, it was clear as to what she was about to do, so I done what my gut told me, I broke and ran toward her.

By the time I reached her, she had completely let go of the railing and her tiny body was, for a moment, what looked like, flying. She didn't jump, she didn't make any sudden moves at all, she calmly, without fear, stepped into the air.

When I reached the railing, thinking that I was too late, I reached out for whatever I could, and it just happened to be her arm.

Her skin was so cold, it was like gripping ice; the coldest of all ice.

Was she even human? I had never felt another living soul so cold. Her eyes, so dark and so empty, did she even possess a soul?

"Let go!" She yelled in an angry voice, fighting with everything in her to break free.

_Why? _I gazed down at her as she wiggled and swayed, trying to free herself from my saving hand.

For a split second, I pondered letting her go, but only because I saw the bitter torture that was in her eyes.

The sky was darker than usual because of the storm, but complete darkness hadn't taken over just yet.

She struggled to keep her eyes open, but the rain was harshly beating her face, forcing them shut.

_I can't let her go._ I thought as I pulled her back to safety and we roughly fell to the ground.

I could have never lived with myself if I had allowed her to fall to her death. She might have been a stranger, but I didn't want to see her die, and especially knowing that I could have done something to help her.

Using the railing for leverage, I sat up against it, pulling the tiny girl to me, in hopes of warming her. It was like holding a small ice-cube to my body.

She didn't fight against me at first, instead, like a small, scared child, she buried her face into my shirt, gripping it with everything in her as she cried and asked _why_.

I knew what she was asking, but I had no answer, so I pulled her closer to me, cradling her as she cried. Peeking out from the halo of wet, mangled hair, her eyes found mine, at first, it was like looking into the eyes of an angry, wild animal. However, soon enough, the pain came surfacing through, so much sorrow. I had never seen so much hopelessness in one person's eyes.

I knew absolutely nothing about the girl as to whom I was holding, except that I wanted to steal away the pain that utterly consumed her.

No one deserved to hurt this way; no one deserved to die this way.

Hard, fast breaths faded into slower ones, and besides the rain and soft thunder, there was silence.

But her calmness was short lived as she began beating my chest with her small fists.

As to why I didn't just release her, I may never know, but I done what felt right, what my heart was compelling me to do, I pulled her even closer and held her even tighter, until she started relaxing once again.

While she laid limp in my arms, her body trembling from the cold and only shallow moans occasionally escaping her lips, I couldn't help but to stare at her face; so beautiful.

_So young, so beautiful... so innocent._

_What had brought her to this place?_ I couldn't have taken my eyes off of her, even if I wanted.

_Who could ever hurt something so beautiful?_

"You'll be okay," I whispered, and without doubt. Where those words came from, again, I may never know, but they sure felt true.

The sky started loudly rumbling again as lightening began flashing all around us. I stood to my feet, still holding the tiny girl in my arms, and I walked as fast as possible to my car.

Once we were there, I placed her into the front seat and removed my coat, wrapping it as tightly around her as possible, and then turning the heater as high as it would go.

"Its all my fault," she murmured in a low voice as I drove.

"Everything's gonna be okay," I encouraged in hopes that she could hear me, or better yet, believe me.

When we arrived at the hospital, I had my dad, Dr. Cullen, to handle the situation. I can't explain as to why I felt the need to take care of this girl, but everything she was - whatever that was - was pulling me to her.

The need to protect her consumed me, so overwhelming, burning for all to see.

Once she was placed in a private room, I sat in the corner and watched her sleep.

_Why did she want to die? _

_What was so terrible in her life that would cause her to wanna end it?_

No matter how much willpower I tried to employ to make myself leave, I just couldn't.

All I could do was stare at her and ponder endless questions, all while watching the big hand chase the little hand around the clock.

The girl was so tiny, she couldn't have been much over a hundred pounds, if that. Her skin was very pale, but not a pasty pale, more like a porcelain pale. Her eyes were dark, a chocolate-brown color, almost black and her dark hair was well past her hips.

"Please, don't leave me," she cried out in a weak voice from her slumber.

_Who didn't she want to leave?_ I pondered, only able to stare at her pain-stricken face from across the room.

"Edward." My dad's voice pulled me from my thoughts, causing me to remove my eyes from the girl and toward him.

"Son, you've done all that you can do. I want you to know that I'm very proud of you." He shook his head before continuing. "Talk about being in the right place, at the right time. But you can go home, she'll receive the best care possible."

Instead of replying to him, I blankly stared at my damp shoes, while running my hand through the mess that was my hair.

My strength was worn, my body still a tad chilled and urging me to rest. I had been by the girl's side for almost twenty-four hours, only leaving for bathroom breaks and occasional strolls of the seventh floor.

She refused to wake up, only mumbling in her sleep from time to time, to alert us she was alive.

"Go home, get some rest." My dad was almost begging. "If anything changes, I'll call."

"Thanks." I finally caved into the exhaustion, with a long yawn, and walked with my dad toward the door.

Once we were making our way down the hallway, I stopped dead in my tracks and faced him. "Promise me you'll call."

"You have my word, Edward." His gaze was heavy, causing my breath to stick in my throat. "Are you sure you don't know this girl?"

"I've never seen her before in my life." I was being honest.

"Your actions are saying different."

"Well, I can assure you, dad, until the bridge, I have never seen her before."

"I believe you." He stared toward the wall instead of looking me in the eye. "It just feels a bit unsettling the way you are hovering over this girl. I'm by no means calling you a liar, it's just that your words doesn't match your actions."

"It's called compassion dad, pass it on." I mocked as I walked away, stopping at the elevator and looking back. "Call me first thing if anything changes." And he nodded before we went our separate ways.

* * *

**A/N**

A huge thank you to every reader, your reviews were awesome and made me smile :) So thanks again.

Another huge thank you to C-Mo and Josh... you guys are awesome as well.

To answer the question from the Guest review: This will be an overall Bella/Edward pairing and romance.

Thanks again you guys! xo

Until Next Time,

Minerva


	3. Chapter 3 - Silence

_**.**_

_**Dying To Heal - Chapter 3**_

_Nobody wants to lose their voice. . ._

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

**BPOV**

I could hear a phone ringing from somewhere in the distance, as hushed voices would come and go.

_She'll be just fine. . . __It's a good thing you were there, son. . . __Please go home and get some rest._

I was surrounded by warmth and I knew I was lying in a bed for I could feel the weight of the sheets and blankets, tucked tightly around me.

The smell of disinfectant and cool air filled the room and a chilled hand would often touch my wrist, checking vitals.

But I was unable to respond, my body felt like steel and every time I tried opening my eyes, it was as if they were glued shut.

For the most part I slept. But it was those moments that I was awake within myself, I knew I wasn't alone.

I could hear soft footsteps, long sighs and a velvety voice mumbling to itself nearby. And the thing that send my heart pondering was the fact that someone would occasionally touch my cheek or gently take their fingers through my mangled hair.

Their touch was strange, oddly familiar and a tad chilled.

Again and again, I tried to force my eyes open, and for what felt like only a few seconds, I did manage to steal a glimpse of my surroundings.

A man sat in the corner of the room, only a few feet away from me. He was breathtakingly beautiful, but worry or perhaps stress was written all over his face. A slight frown rested upon his full lips while he stared at the floor.

I couldn't understand it, but I felt so drawn to him. Never in all of my life had I wanted so badly to touch someone's face.

The need to go to him or try to help him was overwhelming.

Standing beside of the weary soul was a doctor. He was tall but I couldn't tell much about him because he had his back to me.

I had no idea as to what the two men were discussing, but when the man sitting ran his long, slender fingers through his disheveled hair, I knew right then exactly who he was.

His dark-colored locks, now completely dry, were a few shades lighter with the perfect blend of bronze and crimson throughout.

My mind was willing my body to rise, now more than ever, but it was a losing battle.

I was trapped. My mind was hazy and confused, but nonetheless it was fully awake, only trapped inside of a lifeless body.

I needed to talk to the angel. I had no idea as to what I would even say or ask. Maybe it was more of a desire to just be near him rather than talk to him.

I was becoming more terrified with each passing minute and although the angel and doctor were there with me, I was utterly isolated, a prisoner within my own self.

"Go home, get some rest." The doctor's voice was low but firm. "If anything changes, I'll call."

"Thanks." I heard the angel reply, then a few moments later the two voices disappeared behind a door being closed.

"_No_!" I screamed in my head. "_Come back."_

Panic quickly arose as I laid paralyzed, making my pleas.

I hated being alone. I hated the fact that I was unable to defend myself if need be.

_Can you hear me?_

_Can anyone hear me?_

I was drifting further and further away, into space, into darkness, into nothing. I could feel myself relaxing as panic was replaced with a strange calmness. Unable to do anything else, I allowed the nothing to carry me away.

**.**

_**~Six Weeks Later~**_

_**.**_

"Doctor!" The pregnant female nurse called out when my eyes found hers.

"It's okay, sweetie, don't be afraid, the doctor will be here soon." Her eyes were warm and her smile genuine. "Can someone page Dr. Cullen? Please! She's awake."

I searched her over with panicked eyes and a foggy memory, having no idea as to where I was or how I got there.

As the nurse made her pleas from the doorway, I looked around the room for someone else. Who? I don't know, but no one else was there.

_Who else had been there? Who was I looking for?_ My mind mused as my eyes continued in their desperate search.

"Don't be scared." The nurse gently patted my shoulder, pushing my hair aside. "Do you know your name?" She asked, but I could only blankly stare up at her, unable to answer. "Well, that's alright, everything's gonna be okay." Her bright-green eyes appeared truthful and friendly enough.

"Hello." A female doctor entered the room.

Her voice was sour and her eyes were unkind as she looked at me with revulsion. But putting that aside, the female doctor was fearfully beautiful; almost perfect.

She was tall and thin with very noticeable curves and her picture-perfect hair was piled neatly upon her head with a few loose, blonde curls hanging down on her unblemished face.

As the doctor stood in silence for a moment, I noticed that her shiny red lip-gloss matched the red she wore underneath her lab coat. She looked more as if she should be bracing the cover of Vogue instead of wearing a lab coat in a hospital.

"Can you speak?" She finally asked, walking closer.

Her hard gaze made me feel weak and although I held her gaze, I still felt frightened, less, intimidated by her.

I looked to the nice nurse for help, but she only smiled in return.

"Can you say anything at all?" Her voice now sounded agitated.

"B-b," I managed to spit out in a low voice.

"B?" She began checking my vitals in a hasty manner.

"So, B, what brought you to the bridge?" The doctor asked as she firmly held my wrist, glancing back and forth from her shiny, diamond watch and then to me.

"I-I," I murmured, as memories of black skies and lightening all around me came rushing back.

The bridge... the angel... the pain... the decided fate, it all came flooding back, causing my heart and mind both to race.

In that single moment, I fully remembered as to why I was on that bridge. I'll never forget the craving for death that consumed me. And I remembered being so cold when the beautiful angel pulled me from death and into his arms, warming me with his fire. I remembered resting my head on his chest, and feeling his heart as it beat like a drum. I'll never forget when brown eyes met ice-blue and a voice of hope reminded me everything would be okay.

He done more than saved me from myself, he promised everything would be okay and I believed him.

"My angel?" I whispered, and the doctor's eyes snapped to mine.

"Your angel?" She smirked. "Jessica, I need to speak with Dr. Cullen," she demanded as she walked away, quickly jotting with a pen onto a clipboard. "She's clearly delusional."

Delusional? I wasn't delusional.

_The angel was real. He had to be, if not, how did I get there. _

The doctor's words only brought more fear as I ripped the IV from my arm and leaped out of the bed.

_RUN!_ I told myself, as blood quickly dripped from my arm.

I had no desire to be saved, but yet the angel saved me and had now abandoned me.

I was scared, but something was telling me, the beautiful doctor wouldn't understand nor spare a little mercy for someone like me, so I quickly became defensive.

"I'm not going to some psych-ward," I warned, panting for breath, a stronger gaze now met the doctor's intrigued eyes.

"We'll see about that," she replied in a mimicking tone, making her way to the door.

With each step, her red high-heels clicking on the floor, echoing loudly throughout the room. "I need security!"

"No!" I ran to the window, searching for the locks when I noticed that I was at least seven to eight floors up.

Before I knew it or ever had time to develop a plan B, hands were grabbing me and pulling me away.

_._

_**Week One at The Institute of Healing**_

**.**

The walls were painted a baby blue color and the art work had been there for quite some time, for the sun rising over the hills was peeling, as were most of the ever-green trees.

The desire to cover the walls in black paint consumed me. I felt trapped, surrounded by a child-like mural and utterly confused by an agonizing question of, _'was the angel real?'_

I knew that the man from the bridge was only flesh and blood, I called him angel because he was nameless to me.

With great ponder, my eyes flashed to the window. I laid on the tiny bed and watched raindrops as they slowly crawled down the outside of the glass.

As one day bled into the next and then the next, I laid in the small bed and watched as the rain turned to snow and the snow turned to ice.

My today was becoming both my yesterday and my tomorrow, for each was the same.

I felt like a caged animal or some kind of criminal.

I slept, sometimes ate and gazed out of the window.

_**.**_

_**One Month at The Institute of Healing**_

_**.**_

"Here you go, dear." A nurse walked closer, holding out a small cup with two pills and another cup filled with water.

I was tired of the medication. I hated taking pills, I hated being told to take pills, when to sleep, when to get up, when to eat. I hated being there and knowing that everyone was judging me as some crazed-psycho, suicidal maniac, was laying heavy on my heart.

The thoughts of being condemned made me angry and instead of just taking the pills and later spitting them out like I normally done, I smacked the nurse's hands away, causing both the water and pills to spill onto the floor.

"Okay, I was trying to be nice, but I can see that you're not going to return my nice jester, so..." She pulled a needle from her pocket and challenged me with her eyes.

"No!" I jumped out of the bed and broke to run when two guards stepped inside the door.

I could feel my heart beating so loudly, it felt as if it was in my throat. Looking back and forth from the guards to the smirking nurse, and having no possibility of solution or escape, I slowly walked back toward the nurse, defeated and forsaken, I held out my arm.

Roughly taking my arm into her hand, the nurse injected me.

"Ouch," I said behind clinched teeth, making sure I shot her a dirty look, before climbing back into bed.

After a few minutes of window gazing, sleep stole me away.

_**.**_

_**Two months at The Institute of Healing**_

_**.**_

"Can you tell me your name?" I ignored the Asian doctor sitting across from me, like a robot, asking question after question.

As to why he kept asking, is beyond me. He and I went through this line of questioning almost daily.

I refused eye contact with the doctor only moments after meeting him. He was, by all means, very professional, always patient with me, whether I answered his questions with sarcasm or silence. However, putting his professionalism aside, he was a stranger and not in the least friendly.

"Can you tell me what you were doing on the bridge that evening?" He asked, then sipped from the diet coke he held in his hand.

"I needed fresh air." I decided to go with sarcasm.

I could feel his eyes on me, but I refuse to look away from the ice cycles hanging from the window.

_**.**_

_**Two and half months at The Institute of Healing**_

_**.**_

Nobody wants to lose their voice, for we all would rather skip through the pain inside and step straight into the healing process, preferably an instant healing.

Nobody wants to admit their moments of weakness and have to start all over again.

My past was like a constant shadow hovering over me, every minute of every day, stealing away any ray of hope that I tried so desperately to find.

I didn't know what to do, I didn't know how to heal, I only knew pain.

I wanted to feel happiness, I wanted to smile and have what so many others had, but for the life of me, I couldn't find even the smallest of reasons.

I sat in the evening silence, leering out the window. My entire memory was fully restored and I knew beyond a shadow of doubt that the angel from the bridge was real, a human, but nonetheless real.

I could now handle remembering him without confusion, it was my memories from before him and the shame of what happened on the bridge that was eating me alive, like a slow, all-consuming cancer.

Every bittersweet memory, haunting and devouring, reminding me that nowhere I ran, my past was inescapable. A part of me that would never go away.

My entire past was like a two-edged sword, it cut both ways, and I knew that revisiting it wasn't good, but there was that one small part that was the very best thing that ever happened to me. A tiny memory that I cherished in my heart and vowed to never forget, no matter how bad the pain was in remembering.

Every time a painful memory crept into my head, I tried chasing it away with what little memories I had from that day on the bridge; not the deed I tried to commit, but rather the man who stopped me from committing the deed.

_Where was he? _

_Did he remember me?_

_Did I really even want him to?_

I had no full memory of that evening, the bridge I remembered well, it was everything that happened after the bridge that I couldn't remember. So the only logical explanation was that he pulled me from death and then dropped me off at the nearest hospital.

The good Samaritan who lied and told me everything would be okay, without having no idea how badly I needed his words to be true.

Using my index finger, I slowly traced various lines on the glass.

"Why did you have to save me?" I asked out loud as tears pooled in my eyes.

For a moment I wondered where he was at that very moment.

_Was he seeing the same moon that I saw?_

_Was he surrounded by warmth like he freely gave to me that evening on the bridge?_

_Did he ever know unhappiness in his life? _

I was willing to bet no for the latter question. He had probably been publicly honored as a hero for saving the crazy wild-child that attempted to take her own life.

I was also willing to bet that pretty boys like him only saved people like me for the honor and praise.

But the thing that always seemed to leave me in constant questioning was the fact that no matter how poorly I tried to judge angel-boy, my heart screamed that he was good, reminding me of the mercy and kindness I found in his eyes.

It was when I was dangling from the bridge, the very first time I looked into his eyes, I, not only, saw hope, but I saw compassion. Genuine compassion and it was almost as if he could relate.

As much as I wanted to hate him for stealing away my fate, I couldn't. And although I had no desire to ever see him again, a part of me felt grateful; a very small part of me.

_**.**_

_**Three Months at The Institute of Healing**_

**.**

"Dr. Weber, this is B, she has been with us for a few months now." The Asian doctor, whose name I could never remember, said to yet another doctor who had came in hopes of saving me.

"When B first came here, she talked, not a lot, and she often used sarcasm, but at least she talked." He shrugged his shoulders. "After a while, she completely shut down, refusing to talk again, and sometimes refusing to eat." With a vacant stare toward him, I laid motionless and listened as he talked as if I wasn't even there.

"She lies in bed for the most part of the day, staring outside. When's she isn't staring from the bed, she is sitting in a chair, by the window." He used his eyes to point out the chair across the room.

I had nothing to say, it only took me a few days to figure out how things worked at this facility. No one was really your friend, no one was nice because they wanted to be, they were polite and professional because they had to be.

Being trapped in that place, in that room, I felt hopeless, lifeless and bound in shame.

The days were long, and sleep seemed to turn on me, now being the enemy. I sought after it, in hopes of some sort of escape, but even with medication, it would flee from me.

With each passing day, it felt as if my days were fading into one another, making it feel like one single day, without end. I was finding it harder and harder to remember the date, only being able to distinguish day and night with the help from the sun and moon.

"Hello, B, it's a pleasure to meet you." The female doctor greeted me with a faultless smile, while the Asian doctor jotted down, presumably, every detail onto a notepad. "I'll be taking over for Dr. Hughes," she added, still smiling. "I hope I am able to provide you with the support you need, to get you on the road to recovery. I look forward to our sessions."

With my eyes fixated on her, I was trying to figure out this casually, but professionally, dressed lady. Over the years and based solely on a dramatizing past, I had became rather sharp at reading others. I called it a sixth sense of discernment. However, the doctor standing before me, with her bright smile and straightforward personality was utterly unreadable; or really as precise and nice as she appeared.

Breaking all eye contact, I didn't reply to her, instead, I turned further onto my side as a strange, nervous sensation ripped through me.

It had been raining for days and I missed the sun's warmth that would occasionally spill into the room.

"She has gotten out of hand a few times, mostly when the nurses try to make her eat or try to force her to take medication." Dr. Hughes informed Dr. Weber.

So many times, I wanted to say something, I wanted to explain everything, but there was no one I could trust. Being held prisoner for attempting suicide, it wasn't like anyone would even want to hear me, little long would they believe me.

_**.**_

_**Three months and One Day at The Institute of Healing**_

_**.**_

"Oh good, you're awake." Dr. Weber smiled as she loudly pulled along a chair behind her, entering my room.

Without a word, I watched in confusion as two trays were delivered and sat up on a table near the window. Dr. Weber placed her briefcase near the chair opposite of mine.

"Thank you, that'll be all," she said to the short guy, dressed in all white. "Please close the door on your way out."

"So I was thinking of trying something different today, if you don't mind," she chirped, taking her seat and pulling one of the trays closer. "I cannot get any work done in that office, people know where to find me. So I thought, if it's okay with you, I'll sit with you today and try to get some of this workload finished."

I couldn't have answered, even if I wanted to. I looked at the doctor as if she was crazy.

"That is okay with you, isn't it, B?"

Again, but this time because I chose not to answer, I only stared at her, knowing now she was crazy.

"Good. Now you better get over here and eat your eggs before they get cold. I hate cold eggs."

Baffled with a flood of questions reeling in my head, the smell of bacon and warm eggs caused my stomach to growl out with hunger.

On the one hand, I could have just rolled over and ignored Dr. Weber, like I did most everyone else there, in hopes that she'd go away, or I could still cling to my silence and join her, for the food, of course.

I choose the latter.

"When I got the call for this job, at first, I was reluctant at giving the board an answer. I was born and raised in the city, the thoughts of all these trees was a bit smothering." She nibbled on her bacon, piece by piece, as she rambled on. "And besides that, I hated the thoughts of picking up and moving my son away from the only life he has ever known. But I have to say, I think I may like it here."

_That's nice_. I rolled my eyes before turning back to the heated glare I was sharing with the front lawn.

"My son, Erick Ryan, he's eleven and knows everything. But don't they all at that age." She giggled before sipping from her mug.

"Erick's dad isn't in the picture, he remarried two years ago and with each passing day, he has less to do with his own son, while raising two other children that aren't even his." She used her index finger to lightly trace the rim of her mug, as she sat, talking to me as if I was a real person. "I don't know why I said that, I guess we all have issues." She pulled her briefcase to her. "I guess it's just hard trying to adjust to this move with absolutely no help."

I could relate to having absolutely no help, but I was keeping that tad bit of information to myself. I knew what the good doctor was trying to do.

As the day went on, Dr. Weber talked less and worked more. I, of course, done what I always done.

The sun had finally decided to show up on that particular day and had made it's way across the sky, soon to be lost behind the sea of trees.

When Dr. Weber began collecting her things, her cellphone started ringing.

"Hello."

"No! Absolutely not."

"I said no, Erick."

"Because we had pizza just a few nights ago, and I will be home soon." I watched from the corner of my eye as Dr. Weber pinched at the bridge of her nose, clearly becoming aggravated by the conversation she was having with her son.

"Oh yeah, well, you bite too. Whatever that means."

I couldn't help but to giggle at her words. The perfect doctor that seemed to have it all together had just told her son that he bites. Although it was clear that she and her son could possibly have a few minor issues, I giggled because of how she replied back to him was the closest thing to normal that I had heard in a long time.

It wasn't until I felt the good doctor's eyes on me, I quickly sucked my bottom lip between my teeth, forcing the smile to leave my lips and continued staring out of the window.

"Erick, I'll be home soon. Goodbye." She turned her phone off before placing it back into the briefcase.

"You have a very pretty smile, B," she said , then paused in walking toward the door. "Thank you for allowing me to sit with you today. I got more work done in one day then I usually get done in a week, so thanks again. I wish you a delightful evening, and as always, if you need me, alert the nurse and have her to call me."

I didn't move nor did one word escape my lips, I just sat. Long after she was gone, I watched as Twilight chased the sun behind the trees.

The night's sky was full of stars, revealing, what had to be, the largest and fullest moon I had ever laid my eyes on. It was so big, it looked as if, had I been standing on the roof, I could have reached over and touched it.

Although the view was lovely and stirring a good emotion from somewhere deep inside of me, the light generating from the moon was responsible for stealing away my sleep.

* * *

_**A/N**_

As always, I am humbly grateful to my readers and your reviews :) You guys make writing so much better, so thank you very much...

I hate using those titles in the middle to refer to times, dates, places and such, but as of right now, I strongly feel they were needed, however, I plan to use those less and less in future chapters, if I even use them at all. I wanted to make sure that every reader was on board with B's time in the institute, which BTW, will also be ending, hopefully, in the next chapter, definitely the next two, and soon Bella will be back into the real world and healing :)

No beta, no proofreader, with only late night edits here and there, please forgive me for any mistakes.

Until Next Time,

Minerva

xo


	4. Chapter 4 - Let It Hurt

**.**

**Dying To Heal - Chapter 4**

_Let It Hurt_

**.**

**.**

**.**

It was by isolating myself, I avoided finding evidence in the outside world that proved how unworthy I saw myself.

Left in the privacy of my own company, I slept more and more, for it was my only escape from the haunting memories that had me frozen in time.

I may have hated being at the institute and viewed it as a prison, but the truth was, I could have left at any time.

It wasn't so much as being a prisoner trapped within four walls as it was being a prisoner trapped within my own personal hell... a fear of going back into the real world.

My fear was much deeper than some social phobia or some petty fear of not fitting in. My fear was far more frightening because it was true. And the truth was, I had nowhere to go and absolutely no one that I could go to.

Moments of sheer mind-torture arose and utterly consumed my very being when truth and fear collided with pain and bitter memories.

I tried to suppress the pain from my past and when it got too hard, I would switch and try suppressing my fears or the truth.

Often there were times I would choose to feel anger, holding on to it as if it was my only lifeline, for with it came refuge, a small reminder that I wasn't completely gone.

Like so many times throughout my entire life, I tried running from the pain, for I was taught from youth that allowing such emotions to show was, not only weak, but shameful.

And apart of me felt that reopening wounds from the past would only add more pain to the already devouring pain.

Day after day, I laid and stared at the painting on the walls or stood, staring out the window, trying to wish myself away.

Some people turn to drugs or alcohol in hopes of hiding from the truth or from pain, while others will turn to less harmful things such as books or sewing, baking or even television. But I felt as if I had nothing.

Dr. Weber continued in coming to my room. I never knew when to expect her, however, Friday afternoons, I knew I could count on one of her visits.

For the most part, she would sit quietly, lost in paperwork, with only the sound of her pen scratching across the page.

I grew to like the sound of her pen, finding that it was somewhat comforting. Although I never responded to her or uttered a single word, I found myself feeling less isolated when I would hear the sound of her pen scratching across the paper.

Sometimes she would think out loud as she gazed out of my window and then there were a few times when she went on and on about various things.

However, with whatever Dr. Weber decided, I chose to stay prisoner to the silence.

I'll never forget that cold February evening, I found myself staring out of a frost-covered window, where as it was on this particular evening, things began to change.

The usual questions of '_what if'_ or '_maybe I should have done this or that differently' _were chased away by other questions.

_What did I really do to deserve this?_

_Why do I hate myself? _

When I saw my own reflection staring back from the darkened window, I realized that the questions themselves weren't all that strange. It was more of how I was answering those questions, or better yet, not answering those questions, that had me coming face to face with a truth so vivid and so raw, I had no choice but to face it.

_"What had I done?" _I asked myself over and over again.

Each time I asked myself that question, I would reply with a different answer, and each time my answer was more of an excuse rather than a honest answer.

What had I done? Was it my fault that I was born into a family that was so profoundly religious that while my parents were busy loving God, they forgot to love their child?

What had I done, to make a mother so cold and so far out of my reach, that she refused to tuck me in at night or shower me with her affection , like most mothers do?

Whether it was at the family table with my parents or in a classroom surrounded by other children that avoided me in knowing how strict and religious my parents were, my entire childhood, I felt like a misfit.

I was never invited to birthday parties, sleepovers and such. More than once, I overheard the children talking among themselves about how giving me an invitation was a waste of time, because my father would never allow me to come around little devils such as themselves anyway.

Halloween in our home was considered the devil's holiday and any child that made the mistake of knocking at our door resulted in my father chasing them away, openly rebuking them and calling them names such as devils, sons of Satan or evil, godless brats.

It was no mystery as to why every child in our neighborhood treated me like an outcast. Who can blame them?

Although I understood as to why all the children hated me, it still didn't erase my desire to fit in nor did it replace the longing to have a friend.

When I think back on the days of my childhood, I try to remember good things, things that maybe I forgot, things that could possibly relate to some sort of happiness, but there is nothing, only loneliness and empty shell of what could have been.

The school that I attended celebrated Christmas each year by putting together a small program in the school's gym. Each class done either small plays, songs or poetry readings. After each class finished their part of the show, gifts, that were handmade in the classrooms, were presented to the parents.

Each year, I felt like a fool when my classmates would scatter the floor in search of their parents, because I was left standing alone and embarrassed, knowing that my parents would never attend such a "scornful" event.

And that is exactly what my father always called the school programs.

There was this one time, I'll never forget. I was relieved in knowing it was my eighth grade year of junior high and the last year I would ever have to endure such programs again. But the moment I'll never forget came when I was left alone, once again, by my classmates and as my eyes scanned the room, I saw my uncle Charlie standing near the exit, smiling.

I felt so grateful when I saw his smiling face that I ran and jumped into his arms.

I gladly handed him the small treasure box that I had made a week prier, along beside of my classmates.

Usually I just tossed the gifts I had made into the trash at the end of the day, for I knew that my parents were opposed to giving gifts and celebrating the Holidays like most people do.

I suppose I got over it in time, convincing myself that this was just how things had to be, but knowing deep down inside of me that something wasn't right in this picture, in my life.

As the years slowly rolled by and I entered my teenage years, my body was changing and I found myself needing my mother more than ever. But with every question I had or every talk I tried to have with her, she pushed me further and further away, calling the things I approached her with, "ungodly" or "shameful" to speak of.

I was utterly lost with no sense of direction. Often times I felt stupid for not just knowing how things worked.

Thank God for health classes and locker rooms or I would have never figured out as to what makes a woman, a woman. I would have probably labeled myself like the woman in the bible with an issue of blood and merely prayed for a healing.

So many nights I angrily pondered as to why my mother couldn't have just told me. I found nothing ungodly or shameful in a mother preparing her daughter for something that all women go through. But my mother was set in her ways and there was no changing her.

What had I done to deserve the cold, distant treatment from my parents? Perhaps they didn't want a child and my birth was more of a burden rather than a joy.

That would definitely explain as to why they never had any other children.

As I grew older and as if being a teenager wasn't hard enough, my father refused to let me wear simple things such as make-up or jeans, or any kind of pants for that matter.

Dresses and skirts were the only clothing I owned.

Wearing such things while at home or to church felt somewhat reasonable, but having to wear dresses to school every day, made me feel, almost like a bum.

It wasn't that I felt poor, it was in knowing that my clothing had me labeled. Kind of like when you see a crowded street, it's rather easy to pinpoint the people that are usually homeless.

I wanted so badly to be normal, to be like everyone else and it wasn't a desire to be apart of the in-crowd, it was simply a desire to blend into any crowd.

Why did my parents steal that away from me?

Why did they choose to put their only daughter through so much unhappiness and unnecessary grief?

It was in reliving this part of my past, I done something different. Instead of running or trying to suppress the pain from my childhood, without fear, I faced those demons.

I allowed every last bitter memory from my youth the freedom to candidly and earnestly burn inside of me.

The next couple of days were probably some of the hardest days that I had ever faced, for in ways it was like I was mourning my parents and mourning a stolen childhood.

It hurt, but I let it hurt.

In spite of the urge that I felt to hold onto the pain, I fought it and by that next Friday morning, I felt a small but definite change.

The sun's morning light was shinning down onto the snow-covered ground. The mixture of white snow and brilliant rays coming together, made things appear a lot brighter than usual.

As I stood gazing out of the window, I felt strange, divergent. My thoughts were redirecting themselves. I no longer felt the guilt of being a burden to parents that perhaps didn't want me. How could that have been my fault?

A lot of the anger I had toward my parents was gone, not all of it, but most. And for the first time in my life, I almost felt sorry for them.

That particular morning I willingly ate the breakfast delivered to my room and even desired to look somewhat presentable for the visit with Dr. Weber.

As the steaming hot water cascaded over my entire body, the overwhelming sensation felt as if it was reaching, not only the outside of my fleshly body, but to the inside as well. Cleansing every part of me from the inside out.

My tears blended perfectly with the water as I felt something shifting inside of me. It was like a desire to move forward was growing and so help me God, I didn't want to do anything to hinder that growth.

It felt too liberating, too good.

The angel's words, "_you'll be okay_," did bear a truth, for I realized that maybe I could be okay. And not because he said so or anyone else said so, but rather because I was choosing to allow that truth inside.

I stepped out of the shower and slowly walked to the sink, using my hand to wipe away the fog that had gathered on the mirror.

My eyes locked with the brown eyes glaring back and I couldn't help but to touch the face in the mirror.

"Why do I hate myself?" My voice was only a soft whisper.

"Why do I hate myself?" I repeated the question in a slightly louder tone when a firm knock at the door pulled my attention away and reminded me that Dr. Weber had arrived.

By the time I finished up in the bathroom and joined Dr. Weber, she was already sitting in her usual spot by the window, with a mountain of files on her lap.

"Good afternoon, B." Her voice was a tad jaded as she never wasted any time in looking up.

When I stood gazing at her instead of crawling back into bed, her pen stopped and as she slowly raised her head until her eyes met mine.

"If the ultimate goal in life is for everyone to find happiness, then why is the sadness and pain so hard to overcome?"

As to whether it was the question itself or the fact that I had finally spoken, Dr. Weber didn't reply. Instead she held my gaze with her warm and understanding eyes, making me feel less judged as someone insane and more as if she perceived my words as fair.

I knew the journey ahead would be long and hard, and the possibilities of failure were great, but I also knew that the shift inside of me was far greater and growing by the minute.

I also knew that the next chapter from my past was going to be a lot harder to face than the parts that I was already dealing with.

* * *

A/N

And as always, my first thoughts go to my readers and reviewers - Thank You guys so much, your support means a lot to me. It truly makes writing more pleasurable when a writer knows that they're connecting with someone, no matter what the level... So again, thank you!

I also want to say, first, I'm sorry for taking so long to post this chapter, both my daughter and I have been fighting with upper respiratory infections. May we never experience that again... Second, I want to say, I am sorry for the short length of this chapter, however, I felt it was better to leave off here, diving into chapter 5 with B's new outlook on life as she and Dr. Weber go digging further into her past...

As to when Edward will reenter the scene, hang tight, not too much longer ;)

No beta, no proofreaders, so all of the mistakes solely belong to me.

Also, I have joined in with other writers on the site FictionPad, if some of you prefer reading there. The link can be found on my profile here or on my fandom profile on facebook, which BTW, if you want to add me on Facebook, I also have links for those as well...

Until Next Time,

Minerva


	5. Chapter 5 - I can't let go

**.**

**Dying To Heal - Chapter 5**

___I can't let go_

**.**

**.**

**.**

Dr. Weber offered me the option of working with a small group along with another counselor, however, I immediately declined, informing her that I solely desired to work with her.

It had taken me so long to work up to that moment of reaching out to her, there was no way I was going to let her just hand me over to someone else.

Thank God it was without hesitation she agreed and thus started the weekly sessions with Dr. Weber, Angela.

It was during our first session I informed her that my real first name was Bella. I wasn't quite ready to share my entire name, but because of this tad bit of information, she gave me the choice of calling her Dr. Weber or Angela.

I chose to call her by her first name, it made things seem somewhat easier. It felt more like having a friend to open up to, rather than viewing it as some shrink picking through my brain.

In the beginning, when the sessions first started, I hated only being able to speak with Angela once a week.

I was ready, actually beyond ready, to finally face every demon from my past.

Whether it was the fear weakening or merely me awakening, whose to say? It was all sinking in, change was coming. I could I almost see the chains starting to break, and the craving for inner-peace and complete freedom were now consuming me at this point.

I wanted to tackle everything at once. I needed every last drop of poison ran out of my system.

However, Angela explained that I needed to slow down, allowing myself time to grasp onto what was happening, allowing myself time to think, to hurt and then possibly heal.

Every Friday, around noon, sometimes a tad later, Angela would come by my room and off we went into her office, where we spent the next hour, sometimes two, peeling away the diverse layers of my past.

It took four painful sessions to cover my childhood and every sorted detail thereof. Then another two sessions were spent going back over everything and discussing it in-depth.

I went through phases of wanting to back away and run and then phases of desiring to face every fear. Moments of chaos came with moments of peace.

As badly as I wanted to shy away at times, I knew that the more I talked, the more I felt like I was actually getting somewhere.

Recognize, understand and accept, Angela's "essential truth".

Sometimes the truth hurts, sometimes it's ugly and hard to accept, however, that doesn't make it any less true. And the ugly truth was, I was never going to escape my past, for it was where I came from, where I function and exist even now. A part of me that I have to recognize but I have the choice and freewill as to whether I allow it to control me.

It wasn't until I found myself smiling from behind the window one evening while watching a mother bird feed her nest of young, I realized that I was actually smiling.

A desire to live, a desire to move forward and a desire to heal was absorbed into that smile. Like live wires fusing me with life, with hope, I intensively felt every desire feeding a small ray of hope from somewhere down deep inside.

Angela and I covered fear in our sessions. She explained that negative and destructive use of thoughts, feelings, and emotions must be dissolved, for they would only feed my fears, making them even stronger and stopping me from any progress.

She broke down my childhood into levels. Explained in great depth, how my parents instilled fear inside of me as a toddler and as the years passed, every decision I ever made, every thought I ever pondered had fear mingled inside.

The fear of rejection came from the things I endured from my youth.

The fear of failure came from my parent's teachings on a wrathful God, who sits and waits for me to fail so that he may send me to an eternal hell.

I was terrified for the most part of my childhood and as I grew, these all-consuming fears grew. They held me prisoner, paralyzing any good thought that entered my mind.

Angela had given me a lot to think about, but it was her simple words, "y_ou cannot change what you refuse to confront,_" that gave me that extra push every time I wanted to back away or the fight got to hard.

Recognizing, understanding and accepting was a lot easier said than done. I cried, I got so angry that I wanted to hit someone or something. I paced the floor late at night, lost in deep thought, then I would cry and get angry all over again.

Sometimes it did feel hopeless. There were many times it felt as if the pain would never end. And even from these moments, I found an unusual strength, for it was these moments that allowed me to look fear dead in the face and whisper, "I just don't care."

Although, at times, I felt somewhat unworthy of redemption, it didn't stop the freedom that a simple truth handed me and that simple truth was that my parents failed me.

On some levels, I guess, I had always known it, but never really recognized it, nor did I ever really understand it.

Once I did recognize it and learned to accept it, that truth needed not justification or clarification, for I was an child, oblivious, innocent and needing guidance. A child that could have really used her parent's love and protection, but Phil and Renee Swan altogether failed me.

So why should I punish myself for their failures any further?

_**~*DTH*~**_

"Okay, Bella, let me make one quick phone call and we'll get started," Angela said with a warm smile, excusing herself outside the door of her office.

I nodded with a nervous smile of my own, knowing that today we were to start on the next part of my past.

A part so powerful and so full of chaos, it resulted in me on a bridge, seeking death.

To say I was terrified would have been an understatement, nonetheless, I was ready.

My eyes anxiously scanned over her office, taking in the warmth of all the orange and brown colors throughout the entire room.

Angela's office was nothing of what I had first pictured it in the beginning. I had allowed myself to imagine snow-white walls, all lined in shelves of, perhaps, medical books or psychology related books. And maybe a long, green, leather sofa that felt uncomfortable and stiff sat clear across the room, far away from her large black, traditional desk.

I thought that maybe she'd have over-priced, framed art hanging throughout the room and possibly white window blinds covering the windows, much like the ones in every other room throughout the entire institute.

Much to my surprise, the first time I ever entered Angela's office, the first thing I noticed was the warm colors that made her entire office feel more pleasant and less like an Psychologist's office.

The burnt-orange color on the walls reminded me of the smell of pumpkin pies baking. And a tan-colored sofa, covered in a sunbrella-fabric sat near Angela's rather small, cherry finished desk.

The two huge windows, behind her desk, neither having window blinds, but rather yellowish-golden drapes casually hanging open, allowing the sunlight to freely spill inside.

A huge framed picture of her son, Erick, wearing a football uniform was placed in the center of the wall, in between the two windows.

And the only bookshelf in the entire room was a small, cherry-finished bookcase that matched her desk. It sat directly under the huge framed picture of her son, containing mostly romance novels with only a few other books on the bottom shelf.

"Okay, I'm sorry." Angela's voice reentered the room, pulling me away from my pleasant thoughts of her office and reminded me of the harsh reality I was about to embark.

"Are you ready?" Her eyes, always understanding, met mine.

"No," I answered honestly, with a long, dreadful sigh. "But yes."

"Do you feel the need to go back over anything we've already covered?"

"No."

"Okay." She jotted onto the small notebook in her hand. "We left off last week on Jake."

I nodded in recalling what I had told her thus far.

_DTH_

Jacob Black, whom I called Jake. The only part of my past that I considered the best thing that ever happened to me.

It was near the end of my senior year of high school, when I met the cheerful soul that was Jake.

Jake was loud, exuberant, vivacious and always happy. A free spirit that never cared what anyone thought of him. He loved, he laughed and for just a moment in time, he pulled me into that wonderful world of feeling alive.

Jake was apart of the in-crowd and how could he not be? The clothes he wore were always stylish and he had to be one of the most, if not the most handsome boy that attended our school.

I never could understand as to what he saw in me, but Jake never judged the tasteless fashion of clothing I wore, or the outer shell of simple that everyone else saw.

He was the one that approached me, made me smile and then called me beautiful.

He was the first person that I ever allowed inside, the first person I ever became attached to and then the first person to willingly show me any kind of real affection.

In knowing that my parents went to bed every single night around eight pm, sneaking out of my bedroom window to meet Jake became a regular part of my evenings.

I managed to steal a pair of blue-jeans from the girl's locker room at school and I always made sure I was wearing them when I met Jake.

He was the first person I ever held hands with, my first kiss, my first love.

When Jake and I made the decision to make love for the first time, it was a first for the both of us.

Being young, uninformed and desperately in love, I had no idea that our actions would result in bringing a son into the world.

Our precious baby, Colton Jacob Swan. He was so breathtakingly beautiful and the spitting imagine of Jake.

His coal black hair, deep brown eyes and sun-kissed skin made his dimpled smile brighten the darkest of days.

But sadly Jake never met his son.

It was upon finding out that I was pregnant, my parents pulled me out of school and held me prisoner inside of our home until it was time to ship me off to my mother's sister.

I had no way of alerting Jake. No way of using a telephone, no friends to relay a message, no nothing.

My mother and father condemned me to the lowest of hell before sending me away, where I was hidden from the public, while Colton grew inside of me.

The time spent at my aunt's house, during my pregnancy, was uttered hell itself. The only thing that kept me going was my prayers and dreams of running away once I was back home and reuniting with Jake.

There wasn't a doubt in my mind that Jake wouldn't love his son just as much as I did.

Three days after Colton was born, my aunt packed my things and sent me back home.

When my parents allowed me to bring Colton back home with me, I knew something was off. Something just didn't feel right and my time there had to be short.

The next evening, after arriving back to my parents house, I waited for them to retire to bed, and I gathered what few things Colton had and myself a small bag. Once I knew that they were sound asleep, I left that two-story white house and never looked back.

On my way over to Jake's parent's home, I formed a plan in my head that I was going to ask Jake to run away with me and start a new life with me and our son.

The beautiful images that played in my head of our reunion were short lived once I reached the threshold and Jake's father informed me that Jake had been killed in a motorcycle accident not long after I disappeared.

Billy asked me if I was okay or if I needed to come inside, but my entire world had just slipped away. Without answering him, I tightly held to the small, sleeping infant in my arms and I ran.

I spent that sleepless night, sitting on the ground, with my back resting against a chilled, hard tombstone.

I questioned life, God, myself.

My father's words came flooding back, "_God will punish your sins_."

Jake was gone forever and there was nothing I could do to bring him back.

I felt such a hopelessness, I wanted to die, but I knew that I now had a son who needed me.

Looking down at the tiny, wiggling baby, wrapped in only a small blanket, I pondered what I was ever going to do with a baby.

I couldn't take care of myself, how was I ever going to take care of him?

_DTH_

"Bella, are you okay?" Angela's voice pierced the silence. "Can you continue from last week?"

Tired of sitting, I wiped the tears from my cheeks and stood.

Angela only watched as I begin to pace back and forth in her office.

"I was his mother and I knew I had to take care of him. I wanted to take care of him. I wanted to be everything to my son, that my mother wasn't."

"That makes perfect sense," Angela agreed. "Bella?"

I knew what her next question would be, so I refused to make eye contact with her.

"Bella?"

"I failed Angela. And I failed a hell of a lot worse than Renee!" I yelled through clenched teeth.

I don't really know what I expected to happen by revealing this part of my past. I guess in ways I thought confronting this part would be much like confronting the last part. But it wasn't.

This part of my past was much bigger, a lot more powerful and just the thoughts of facing it and allowing myself to even think of healing was too much.

I couldn't let go. This part of my past was all I had left of Colton, how could I ever let go of that?

"I-I can't do this anymore," I said to Angela before storming out of her office.

* * *

**A/N**

To My Readers, Reviewers and Followers, I humbly thank you and appreciate you more than words can ever say... I know that I have left you with a cliffhanger and I promise that I will get the next chapter to you ASAP! It's already pre-written, but needs adjustments and edited.

No beta, no proofreader, so please, any and all mistakes, as always I will lay claims on those :)

Until Next Time,

Minerva


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